


How am I gonna get myself back home?

by aerowyn



Category: The Maze Runner (2014)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:18:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2807381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerowyn/pseuds/aerowyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas runs for all of them. For the possibility of finding something beyond the four walls of the Glade. For a way out. Out of the Maze and back home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How am I gonna get myself back home?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hiddencait](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddencait/gifts).



Thomas runs. He wakes up, he eats breakfast, he runs. He stops long enough in the Maze to shove down some dried meat and bread, have some water, and then he’s back to running. 

He sometimes dreams about running. Even when he sleeps, he can feel his legs moving, his muscles endlessly taking his farther into the Maze, searching for a way out.  
Thomas tells Chuck that he will get him back to his parents, back to the people that he doesn’t remember but have become his reason to get up in the morning, his reason to be a productive member of the Glade. 

Thomas doesn’t remember what his home was like, if he even still has parents. He still gets flashes of what there was before, of what he thinks life was like before the Glade. But that isn’t why he runs. He runs for everyone else, for the homes they had or deserve to have. He isn’t sure he deserves a home, deserves a safe place if his suspicions about his role in the Maze are true. But the guys around him do. Chuck, with his naivety and innocence. Alby, with his unwavering bravery and strength. Minho, with his quiet determination and loyalty. Newt, with his cynicism and intelligence. Even Gally, who is vindictive and full of hate, deserves better than the Glade. Better than living in fear of Grievers and the ones the control the Maze. 

Thomas runs for all of them. For the possibility of finding something beyond the four walls of the Glade. For a way out. Out of the Maze and back home.

*

Thomas runs across the Glade, sun slowly sinking behind the wall in the distance, the loud crunch of the outer walls behind him. He makes his way to the fire pit, already blazing bright in the twilight. 

“Oy, Greenie, don’t you ever get tired of running?” Newt limps up to Thomas as he throws his pack beside the fire. “You run all day in the Maze, but yet you still run to dinner every night. You know it won’t be ready yet. Frypan hasn’t even thrown the meat on the fire, so I don’t know what you run for.” 

“It’s kinda hard to stop, you know? It’s like I still have the momentum that is just feels wrong to walk.” Thomas grabs his bottle of water, taking a huge gulp. 

“Whatever, Greenie. I just think you’re shucking crazy enough to enjoy all the damn running.” Newt rolls his eyes as he sits down next to the fire. 

Thomas laughs as he sits down beside Newt, pulling his pack forwards to check his rations for the next day. “It’s better than sitting around here.”

Minho walks slowly up to the fire dropping down near Thomas and Newt. “See, Minho walks up here like any sensible person who’s been running for most the day would. Not still running like some shucking lunatic.”

Minho quirks his lip, grinning at Newt. “Every day it’s the same argument Newt. Why don’t you just let the Greenie be the shank he is and let it go?”

“And where’s the fun in that?” 

“Fun? You think bickering everyday about the same thing is fun? I think you need to rethink your way of thinking there, Newt.” Minho leans back against a log, feet stretching out in front of him. 

“Who died and made you ruler of fun, huh?” 

Thomas laughs as Newt and Minho continue to bicker. They were like this every night. They’d find anything to argue about. Thomas continues to look through his pack as he listens to them.

Right as Thomas puts his pack back together, making a mental note to pick up a few things before he turns in for the night, Frypan calls dinner. 

After dinner, the Gladers end back at the fire, liquor passing freely as they all laugh and talk, letting off some steam after another hard day taking care of the Glade. Thomas sits between Newt and Chuck, laughing as Gally got his ass kicked by Alby in the makeshift ring they’d set up, enjoying the feeling of the burn as he drank. 

“I hear what you get up to at night, Thomas.” Minho laughs as he passed the jar to Newt. “You think you’re being quiet but I know you spend half the night with your hand down your pants. That’s the only way to explain those noises.”

“Oh, is that right, Minho? What are you listening to me sleep for, huh? You wish you were over there with me?” 

Alby, Jeff, and Frypan laugh as Minho sputters, “Are you out of your shucking mind, Greenie? I don’t listen, you’re just so shucking loud that the whole damn floor can hear you. Am I right, Winston?” 

Winston holds up his hands. “Leave me out of this, Minho. I don’t hear nothing.”

Minho turns to Jeff, Frypan, and Chuck. “Come on, someone else has to back me up on this.”

Chuck laughs and turns toward Thomas. “Sorry Thomas, but Minho’s right.”

Thomas looks at Chuck, shocked. “You too, Chuck? I thought you were on my side.”

“I am.” Chuck turns back to Minho. “He’s no worse than you, though, Minho. You might not be as loud for as long, but there are some nights where you wake me up out of a dead sleep cause I thought a Greiever’s done got you by the noises you make.”

Thomas laughs as Minho looks as Chuck like he could kill him. 

Minho stands up, pointing at Chuck. “You’re crazy, Chuck.” Minho walks over to Jeff, grabbing the jar and taking a huge swig. “Why are we talking about this again?”

Thomas laughs as Minho falls down beside him. “Hey, man, you brought it up. It was obviously something you wanted to talk about. Feeling wound up tonight, Minho? Do you need to go let off some steam in your bunk before we all go to bed? That way no one will think you’re dying?”

Minho grabbs Thomas, putting him in a chokehold. “I can take out some stress on your neck, you shank!”

Thomas laughs as he tried to pull away from Minho. It isn’t long before he and Minho are wrestling in the dirt, with Jeff, Chuck, Newt, Frypan, and Alby catcalling and egging them on.

Nights like this were Thomas’s favorite, full of laughs and high spirits. Their lives seemed better somehow in the firelight, not so grungy and hopeless like it sometimes seemed during the day. Like maybe the sound of their laughter could drown out the groans of the Grievers just outside their walls, the constant reminder of impending danger just a blip in the distance. 

It was on nights like these that Thomas thought that maybe he didn’t run to find his home. Like maybe he’d already found it.


End file.
